Torn Tired Bodies
by nananana hey jude
Summary: "Every year, June 1st, a state funeral is held in honour of the 99 boys who have lost their lives to the Long Walk." Oneshot. Slight Parker/Barkovitch and Baker/Abraham. Rated T to be safe.


Every year, June 1st, a state funeral is held in honour of the 99 boys who have lost their lives to the Long Walk. It is held in Van Buren, Maine, and the bodies are shipped off to their respective home states once it is over. It is a televised event and a national holiday, with a one minute silence at 9 o'clock on the dot.

Ray Garraty has watched this funeral every year from the comfort of his own living room - usually with a sense of melancholy and pride at honouring the dead of his country- but this year he is deemed a special guest and is given a seat right at the front row. In any other case, being a 'special guest' would be welcomed warmly and anticipated for days beforehand, but this is a funeral, the funeral of some of his newest and dearest friends, with the front-row seats looking directly over the open coffins of the boys he managed to out-walk.

He had asked Jan and his mother beforehand if he would be able to attend the funeral alone. They begrudgingly accepted, though made it very clear that they would come if he had any last-minute doubts. He didn't.

Now here he is, sitting in a vast, crowded, silent church with hundreds of people - and thousands outside - and he isn't concentrating on the Major's speech, or the mechanics of his wheelchair (as he so often pretended to do when he didn't want to listen to anyone - besides, he might as well get used to it, he was going to need it for a very long time) or even Cathy Scramm, who seemed to be grasping onto the handle of the wheelchair to keep herself from breaking down, and who had come up to him before the funeral and asked if she could stand with him.

He's concentrating on the figures by the coffin.

Ray isn't quite sure if he's hallucinating or not, but all he can think of is how horrifying it must be to look into a coffin and see your own face staring back out at you.

Harkness doesn't seem to realise this until he reaches his own coffin. He crouches beside a body and reads the plaque enscripted onto the side, taking down the name, number and age of the owner. He eventually finds his way to Coffin 31, and double takes as the realisation hits him. He then sits down beside it and puts the book down before pretending to concentrate on polishing his glasses.

That being said, maybe some of the boys don't seem to get hit as hard, Ray thinks as his eyes wander over to Parker and Olson, who are quietly but heatedly debating who looks better in the identical black suits they were dressed in prior to the event. Both seem to be making equally plausible cases, though eventually Olson makes a low but good-natured comment about the likelihood of makeup being used on Parker's face, and recieves a thump to the stomach. Parker's fist reaches right through to the interior of Olson's torn torso and he quickly apologises as Olson flinches away. He takes a moment to recover and then claps a hand on Parker's shoulder in a manner of camaraderie. It's quite heartwarming, Ray thinks. Maybe they bonded over the similar fates they shared.

Something stirs just out of the corner of Ray's eye, and he glances up to see young Stebbins sitting at the podium, holding onto the bottom of the Major's trouser leg. He's leaning onto the wood with his eyes close, but opens them and nods to Ray. He nods back, and Stebbins closes his eyes again, probably revelling in the fact that he is back with his father at last.

Another movement distracts both him and Stebbins, who snaps his eyes open once again and glances down at the rows of coffins: Abraham, who is delicately stepping over various bodies to reach Baker, who has finally cracked and is hiding his face with one hand to stop the tears from showing. Pearson has already taken his place by Baker's side, keeping a hand on his shoulder while he stares gloomily into the depths of the Southern boy's coffin.

Abraham finally stops and puts his arm around Baker's shoulders and mutters something to him. Baker takes his hand away from his eyes and nods in response. They resume the silence, but not before Baker turns and buries his head into Abraham's shoulder.

Another similar scene takes place by Barkovitch's coffin - Ray doesn't understand why he can see the boy, he never really liked him… he feels it must be down to the pity he feels for him - as he is sitting, staring vacantly at the coffin and rubbing at the gap at the front of his neck. He's eventually joined by Parker, who has left Olson to make faces at the Major. Parker takes a seat beside Barkovitch and simply puts an arm around him, much like Abraham did for Baker. Barkovitch leans into the embrace, still rubbing at where his throat used to be. Parker notices this and bats his hand away. Barkovitch mutters a thank-you and they just sit there, content in each other's company.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you about that, didn't I?" It isn't the voice that Garraty jumps at, it's far too familiar. It's the harshness of the voice in such a quiet, sacred place, echoing through the air and bouncing off the stained glass windows that makes him start. He looks up to see McVries leaning casually on the wheelchair, seemingly watching all this from right beside the wheelchair. He looks down and grins micheviously.

"Turns out Parker's queer for Barkovtich! I tell ya, Garraty, it's weird what people tell you when you're dead…" he pauses and looks down at his shoes, the smile fading from his face. "…or what happens when you enter a room without knocking."

Garraty smiles and opens his mouth to say something, but McVries shushes him, and explains, "Don't want you looking like a loony in front of all these lovely people, now do we? The wheelchair is bad enough as it is!"

His face darkens and he crouches down to Garraty's level. "Look, once these coffins close we're gone. Poof. All of us. Me, Olson, Baker, everyone. You won't be seeing us again, not for a long time." The smile is back, his mouth tilting into that all-too-familiar slant. "But I guess we'll still be around. I'd love to get all poetic and say you'll see us in your dreams, but I'm not sure how likely that actually is.

"Either way, Raymond Garraty, on behalf of all these gentlemen, I say it's been a pleasure to meet you."

Ray feels the tears before he can comprehend them, and folds his hand around McVries's, squeezing it and feeling not entirely sure as to whether it really is there or not. At this point, it doesn't quite matter. He keeps his eyes on the Major, apprehending the moment when the hand is there no more, and the spirits of the Walkers are detatched from their torn, tired bodies.


End file.
